


Open Up My Heart Like a Shotgun

by LetTheMusicMoveYou



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Boys Kissing, Drunk Sex, Kissing, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetTheMusicMoveYou/pseuds/LetTheMusicMoveYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people call it a blessing, some people call it a party trick, but I just call it a bloody curse. Ever since I’ve been of the legal drinking age (ok maybe slightly before), I discovered an interesting little… talent of mine. I always remember every thing I have done when I was black out drunk the night before. Every. Single. Thing. What’s so terrible about that you ask? Well let me be the first to tell you that some things are better forgotten.</p>
<p>(Or the one where Liam always remembers what he does when drunk including hooking up with Zayn).<br/>Title from So Alive by the Goo Goo Dolls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Up My Heart Like a Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and I swear I didn't mean for there to be so much angst. Oops!  
> I might continue this.. let me know if you'd be into that. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! x

Some people call it a blessing, some people call it a party trick, but I just call it a bloody curse. Ever since I’ve been of the legal drinking age (ok maybe slightly before), I discovered an interesting little… talent of mine. I always remember every thing I have done when I was black out drunk the night before. Every. Single. Thing. What’s so terrible about that you ask? Well let me be the first to tell you that some things are better forgotten.

The music in this club is too loud and there are too many people to comfortably fit in this small space, but it doesn’t matter because I need it. I need to be surrounded by sweaty bodies and the pounding bass of an overplayed song while another shot of vodka burns down my throat. I’m not even sure how many that is now, I lost count somewhere around 5. It’s been a long year and I just need to not feel it right now.

A pretty brunette walks up to my table in the corner and grabs my hand, silently urging me to the dance floor. Her eyes shine with innocence, and man would that be nice for a change. I look over my shoulder at Paddy who’s in his constant post against the wall. I told him he didn’t have to come tonight, but he just said what he always says: “trouble doesn’t take a night off and neither does security.” He gives me a confirming nod that he’s still watching and I let her lead me into the throng of desperate people.

We reach the center and begin dancing, she wraps her arms around my neck, but her grip is not tight or possessive she’s just a steady and constant force against my skin. I’m grateful, because I’m suddenly feeling those shots. It’s as if I’m moving underwater or through mud, but it feels good in a dangerous way. I throw my head back and let the music and the chaos around me take control. I feel a gentle kiss on my cheek and then suddenly the steady weight around my neck is gone. I snap my eyes open but can’t see the girl anywhere in my hazy vision. I continue gently swaying to the music and scan the crowd for my dancing companion, but my eyes lock on someone else entirely. If I knew what was good for me I would have left the club right then. I should have just collected Paddy and hit the road. But as so many people have learned before me, combining alcohol and the need to do something reckless is not a good idea.

Zayn was only a few feet, but nearly a dozen people away from me. His dark eyes didn’t move from mine but I couldn’t read any expression on his face. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him in person and damn he looks good. I mentally curse myself for that thought as I watch Zayn pull a cigarette from his jacket (only Zayn would wear a jacket in a crowded club), and nod towards the doorway before he started moving through the crowd. I looked over to Paddy’s spot along the wall to see him talking with one of the waitresses who was no doubt looking for a tip from the security guard. I know I should tell him where I’m going, but I honestly don’t even know how to explain it to myself let alone him.

I wade my way through the sweaty bodies on the floor and stumble out the back door of the club. The crisp London air hits my skin and and temporarily jolts me from my vodka fueled haze. I look over to see Zayn leaning against the wall while he takes a long drag from the cigarette now in his mouth. He looks like sex, and once again my brain shouts at me to run. In a shocking twist of fate I still don’t listen.

Zayn gives a nod of acknowledgement to my existence and mumbles, “alright?” I nod as casually as I can in my state, “alright.” He leans forward and holds the cigarette out in my direction. I grab it without hesitation and take a long drag. I hand it back to him and watch as he drops it on the ground and grinds it out with his leather boot. We stay like that for awhile, just staring at the ground. Finally Zayn looks over at me again and I swear it’s like he’s looking right inside me. His eyes are shining brightly, but I can see that they are slightly unfocused and I think that I’m not the only one that’s buzzing right now. He tugs at his jacket before speaking, “You want to get out of here mate? We could go to my place and talk…” he pauses “in privacy.”

Everything inside my brain is telling me to say no but I guess my head didn’t get the memo, because I feel myself nodding and following Zayn down the alley behind the club. Thankfully there are no paps waiting for us when we reach his car. He nods at the waiting driver who opens the door for us. I suddenly feel a pang of guilt for ditching Paddy. I reach for my phone to send him a text only to find my pocket empty. Shit. This is why I don’t go to clubs.

I lean my head back against the black leather seat of the car and sigh. I don’t even have to look over at Zayn to know he’s staring. I can feel it. Once again I defy my better judgment and swivel my head in his direction. I was right, he’s staring and without shame. His eyes look even darker than usual as they run the length of my body. He looks hungry. I know what’s going to happen when we get to his place and it’s not going to be talking. I knew it the second he suggested I go with him. Hell, I knew it when I first saw him in that damn club. My head hurts, so I lean it back against the seat again and close my eyes. I’m done thinking tonight.

***

When I open my eyes I’m assaulted by the harsh sunlight filling the room. I cover my eyes with my arm and lie like that for a few minutes before I realize a critical bit of information: this isn’t my room. I snap my eyes back open and wince again at the sunlight. Every inch of this room is decorated in dark colors that contrast harshly with the sunlight. The walls and nearly everything else are covered with graffiti and street art. I don’t even have to look over to the other side of the bed to know who it is that I can hear snoring softly, but I look anyway. Zayn is laying on his side and the black sheet is only covering him from the waist down. I watch as his beautifully tattooed chest rises and falls with each breath while he sleeps. I have no idea how I got here or what the hell happened last night, but I have no doubts that I won’t be wondering for long. And as if on cue the memories start flooding my brain.

_I’m sitting in the back of Zayn’s car. I don’t even open my eyes when I feel his hand rest on my knee. We just stay like that for a while until his hand starts moving, slowly stroking up and down my thigh. The combination of his hand moving higher and his lips now ghosting along my neck make me groan. I finally open my eyes to nervously look at the driver to see if he heard, but he’s not looking at us in the rearview mirror. It’s as if he doesn’t even know we’re there._

_My hips are obediently rolling into his hand by the time we pull up to his flat. We stumble inside and I feel myself being pushed against the wall before the front door even shuts. His lips and his hands feel like they’re everywhere and I can’t breath. Suddenly we’re moving again and stumbling into his room, our mouths never disconnecting the entire way. I raise my arms when I feel him tugging at my shirt and it moves swiftly over my head. His lips are at my ear again and he’s whispering in that gravelly voice that makes my skin tingle “God I missed you Li, missed this.”_

Thankfully my brain stops torturing me with details of last night for the time being. I hear Zayn rustling beside me and I look over to him in horror. Luckily for me he was just readjusting in his sleep, so I still have a window of opportunity to sneak out undetected.

While I’m known for remembering every stupid thing I do when I’m drunk, Zayn is pretty much known for the opposite. He rarely remembers the dirty details of his drunken escapades… ever. I’m really hoping that holds true this time as well. Because then even if I can’t forget I can at least pretend. Pretend last night didn't happen and Zayn will never be the wiser.

I take a deep breath and start to gently push myself up and out of the bed. I watch as Zayn moves again but mercifully his eyes stay closed. As soon as my feet hit the ground I begin searching for my clothes. Once I’m satisfied that everything I came with is crumpled in the pile in my arms I carefully open the door and step into the hallway. I try my best to ignore my pounding headache while I frantically pull my clothes on.

There’s a man, that I can only assume is a member of Zayn’s security team, standing outside the front door. A slight nod in my direction is the only acknowledgement I get. I shove my hands in my pockets and rush out into the street as soon as I can, hoping I can blend into the crowd before anyone sees my little walk of shame. I hail the first cab I see and scramble into the back seat. Thankfully that damn club thief only got my phone and not my wallet. I tell the cabbie my address while he looks at me through the rearview mirror and I notice that his gaze lingers a beat too long. Either he recognizes me or I look like complete shit. Probably both. I focus my gaze on the streets blurring past me through the window and try to concentrate on not vomiting all over this car. Finally the cab pulls onto my street and I lean forward to hand the man his money and a very generous tip. I don’t even ask him to use discretion. Frankly, I don’t really give a shit. I just want to take a shower and then sleep for two weeks straight.

I drag my exhausted body up the steps and through my front door. I’m silently begging Paddy not to be there at the moment, but apparently not all of my prayers are meant to be answered today. He’s sitting at the breakfast counter with a mug of coffee and the newspaper in his hands. Any stranger observing this scene would think he’s my father and in a lot of ways he kind of is. He lowers his paper to look at me but doesn’t say anything for several seconds. After one last sip he puts his mug back on the counter, “well it’s good to see you’re not dead.” I had meant for my apology to be composed and well presented but instead it just came out as a jumbled mess. “I’m so fucking sorry Paddy. I didn’t mean to, I swear. I was drunk and someone stole my phone and…” Paddy cut me off with a raise of his hand, “Yeah I kind of figured that out when I traced your phone and found some punk trying to hawk it in the back alley.” He pulled my phone out of his pocket and slid it to me across the counter. I reached for it thankfully. “I really am so sorry Paddy.” He sighed, “I know you are. Will you at least just tell me if you’re ok?” I nodded but I doubted I was very convincing. He seemed to consider my answer before finally reaching for his paper again. “Alright then, just know I’m here if you need me yeah?” I nodded and started heading for my room. Desperate for my bed and an end to this conversation. It took my hungover brain a few seconds to process that the vibrating sensation in my hand was coming from my phone. My stomach dropped when I saw the name on the screen.

_Zayn_.


End file.
